Smile
by Mina Lisly
Summary: "I had this dream again. This dream of her. That girl who ruined my sanity." Oneshot. AU. AH. OOC.


**So, as a fair warning, I want to tell you that 'violent' themes will be broached in this fic. Nothing will be really described, but it will still be talked about. So if you're a sensible person, don't go down this word.**

**~.o.O.o.~**

**.**

I had this dream again. This dream of her. That girl who ruined my sanity. Even though I am awake right now and my eyes are wide open, watching the devastated scenery that lays before me, I can still see her smile. That smile who keeps on haunting me, who will haunt me until the day I die (which might come sooner than I expected).

She was a nobody, a no one. She was nothing, really. Just a trainee who happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong moment. Just like the rest of us. There wasn't anything interesting about her. Her personality wasn't really bright, her ideals quite common, her looks completely average. The only thing about her was her smile. Her fucking smile. The last thing I've seen of her, sort of say.

She used to tell me that I was selling dreams. I guess now she was right, I _was_ selling dreams. I would sell people the best vacations of their lives and they wouldn't even noticed how I wrapped them around my little finger.

But that was back then. That was when everything was still perfect in my life, when I had it all. The perfect job, the perfect house with the perfect car parked in front of it, the perfect fairy tale that is married life. My life was fucking perfect and I used to love it. I still long for it.

I loved getting up in the morning, the love of my life laying next to me, the smell of fresh coffee wiping away the sleep I could still feel. I loved going to work, a cigarette in my mouth, a smirk of satisfaction on my lips when I was thinking back of the perfection of my life. I loved the way it used to be: easy and according to plan.

But that was before her. Before the blackout. Strangely, I always associated her to the blackout. I don't know why, it just is. It's as if, in my mind, she was the one to blame. Maybe because it makes me feel less guilty when I think that it is all her fault. It would explain her smile. Her last smile. One of her only _real_ smile.

She always smiled before the blackout, but her smile never reached her eyes. It was a polite smile she was giving us, and for the clients, the damn commercial smile that I hate so much. And when the blackout happened, she didn't bother smiling anymore. I couldn't blame her. What was there to smile about?

We were witnessing the demise of humanity, people stepping on others to have another ration of food. People showing their real side, forgetting about all those high principles they had, about all those good things that should matter to them like family, friends, taking care of your younger ones. And all we could do was witness the vile side of human kind coming out.

Lucky us we were located in a fancy hotel, which means we had food for quite some time. Unlucky us, the hotel was in the fucking edge of the world which means we were away from any other survivors. Yeah, sure we were away from the riots that probably happened in the big cities, but at some point, food started lacking and people started going missing.

Is it horrible to say that children started missing first? I mean they are young so their flesh is undeniably softer ... Yes, I know the taste of human flesh, even worst, I know what a baby taste like, and I love it. The best meat I ever had. It was easy to love it, I always let the heavy burden to others, I never had to kill any of them.

At some point, people started fleeing the hotel, hoping to find something better away, and all I could do when I was watching them leaving was comparing them to cattle fleeing the slaughterhouse.

It came to a point when it was just the two of us left, barricaded in the office. And man, she was weird. I mean she was weird to begin with, barely talking, barely sharing fun moments with us, always in her little corner, but now, it was a whole new notion of weird.

Her eyes were always on me, and man, I hated her eyes. It's like they couldn't decided if they were blue or green. Her stupid eyes always changed color according to the weather. And she never talked, never smiled, she just kept on staring at me, a sad expression darkening her face. One day I just lost it and asked her what she wanted with my face.

"Make me dream." It's all she said. She was sitting in a corner near the window, her knees brought up against her chest, her head on her knees, her long dark red hair framing her small face. I remember how shocked I had been by her request, not because it was out of place, but because it made me realise that ever since the blackout, I hadn't dreamed myself. I had either nightmares either nothing. It was as if I forgot what it was like to dream.

I sat on the armchair standing in front of her (when I say that this girl was weird, who sits on the fucking floor when there are chairs and sofas around?), and she closed her eyes. _Finally_! I looked at the sky through the window, feeling completely devastated. I didn't _know_ how to dream anymore. And so I told her about the last dream I sold.

"Where do you want to go?" I asked.

"Back."

Of course she couldn't just make it easy. _Back_. I almost snapped at her and dared her to find someone on this planet who didn't want to go back. Back before the blackout. Back before the demise of humanity. Back before countless of loved ones being killed before your helpless eyes. But I didn't, I made her dream:

"Me too.

I wish I could go back to the 18th century and wander in Paris' streets where Louis the sixteenth's head was separated from his body. I've actually been there, you know. Place de la Concorde. I could almost hear the crowd roaring, their wooden shoes echoing loudly on the pavement, the deathly whistle of the blade as it goes down as fast as thunder. You can still feel the excitement of the population as they were seeing this symbol of power and oppression being beheaded.

I wish I could go back to the day the Taj Mahal had its last stone set. To see this mausoleum of wonders for the first time, free of all the noise that there is around it now. I wish I could just take you there. You'd taste India. With all your senses. The rainbow of colours, the thousand spices to taste and smell, the feel of the dirty and purifying water of the Ganges, the thousands people shouting and living.

I wish I could go back to the day to the day the Great Wall of China was built. To be the first one to walk on it and feel all over again this impression of greatness of humans. Once I booked this trip for this family and they told me all about this feeling of seeing Time pass by as you walk on the Wall..."

Her obnoxious eyes were still closed and a small smile crept on her face as she rested her head against the wall. The first real smile I ever saw on her annoying little face, and I didn't even see it in her eyes. For the first time, I wanted to actually see her eyes. Her fucking annoying eyes.

"I'm sure you actually never went to any of these places." She states, still smiling with her eyes closed.

"Who cares? We dreamt didn't we?" I retort.

"Yes, we did." She said, with sadness and resolution. "Thank you for that."

And suddenly, she opened back her eyes and looked deep into mines, searching something in my soul. She slowly got up, her hands hidden in her back as I stayed put on the armchair.

"You know, it's just the two of us now. In the whole hotel." She declared matter-of-factly.

She looked at me significantly, implying what I have been thinking about for weeks now. It was all I had been thinking about. That it was just the two of us now. That our food portions were getting thinner and thinner to the point where we didn't had anything to eat anymore.

Now it was just the two of us, and to me, she looked less and less like a human being, and more like a nice sandwich with different layers of meat. Something good, greasy, mouthwatering. I wonder sometimes if she thought of me that way too, or if she knew all along how it was going to end.

"At least, I'll leave with my mind filled with wonders. You made me walk through Paris, bath in the Ganges, touch the cold stones of the Great Wall. At least, I traveled once in my life with you."

I didn't utter a single word, not really sure where she was getting at. Sure we both knew that she wasn't standing a chance against me, but that didn't mean that I was going to kill her. Not now. Not when we had been through so much together. And still, she could at least _try_ to fight me off. Try to _survive_!

Slowly she revealed what she had been hiding in her back, and I saw that it was a long kitchen knife. The same one that we used for the last person. I got up in the blink of an eye and she finally smiled with her whole fucking face. Her eyes, green this day, sparkling of the last glimmer of life she had before she stabbed herself in the stomach.

"I spared you the conflict."

She still had her smile on her face. Her only one true smile. And I didn't move a muscle as I watched her bleed to death, her lips stupidly spread into that now really annoying smile.

THE END.

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**~.o.O.o.~**

**.**

**Well, another oneshot. I had this one for a long time in mind, so yeah. Hope you liked it, even though it was quite different. Tell me all about it. ^^**

**Anyway, Cassandra Clare owns the Mortal Instruments franchise, everything else is mine.**

**Kiss㈍9 Kiss㈍9, Bang㈝9 Bang㈝9.**


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